Now Can I Shoot?: Tony Dinozzo X Timothy McGee

Kitty, Kitty Bang, Bang

The man goes back upstairs to create more clamorous noises. Perfect time to plan my escape. Clip in hand, I bite down on the clip and find the entrance hole again. "There you are," I say aloud. The banging from upstairs stops; I quickly hide the clip into my pant pocket again. The footsteps above travel away from the basement door. Footsteps continue back in his original direction. The noise continues. I release a sigh and continue my escape. I jiggle the clip around hoping to hear a loud click, no avail. My hand is getting cold again; the numbness starting to peak through. I groan silently in frustration and warm up my hands again. My head resting against the cold basement wall, I think of my cat's lifeless body upstairs. Tears begin to fall again. Since I'm down here, I should earn this guy's trust. Maybe he'll give me food?

A few minutes pass, my hand in the handcuffs burning and numb from the cold. My wrist aching with every movement. The pain, everywhere from my head to my feet. The cold air isn't helping, I can't sleep through it. Tears run down as each individual pain hits me at once. An idea forms in my head; I mentally slap myself for not thinking of it earlier. I shake my left shoulder to get my arm out of the blazer. This way the blazer keeps me warm and I can gets some sleep at least. Arching my back, I take the blazer in my left hand and throw it around behind me to my right side. Wrapping the blazer onto me. Blazer is cold, but it's better than nothing.

I wake to the door slamming open, my eyes adjusting to the light. My headache kicks in again, I hold my head from under the blazer. The blazer obstructing my view of the light; which helped a lot. "Look at me," the man said. I peak from above the blazer. His hood down and his face shown. His face unfamiliar to me. "What do you want?" I ask, "do you want food?" He asked, his expression stayed the same, emotionless. "Yeah, thanks." He's showing me his face and hospitality. Strange for a maniac. He turns and leaves, the door slamming shut. I sit there in silence, wondering what just happened.

I'm assuming about 30 minutes passes. The man walks downstairs with a plate in hand. The smell, is unfamiliar. "Eat," he places the plate at my feet. The food looking revolting and contain small amounts of blood. "What...what is this?" I ask careful not to cause me more pain. "It's food, just eat it," he authorized. I examine the food to see if there's any suspicions besides the blood. "Is...is that hair?" My tone growing with fear. "Are you hungry or not?" He asked starting to get frustrated. "Not anymore," I say carefully. He releases a frustrated sigh out his nose. He takes the plate and storms upstairs. I wince at the door slamming and continue warming up.

The hair in that food fills my mind. Not human? It had different variations of color. Like...a cat. My eyes begin to flood. "He tried to get me to eat cat meat?" I ask. So surprised that I had to ask aloud. "This guy is crazy," I say aloud. My stomach turning at the thought of eating rotten cat flesh. It was cooked, but it looked like he just slapped the cat on a pan and used oil. Gagging at the site that I gave myself. The lack of food in my stomach, not helping either.

I wake to the sound of clanging from upstairs again. "Now's a good time," I take the clip from my pocket and begin again.

My eyes lighten, the loud click I've been waiting for is heard. I hear the handcuff jiggle and I take the handcuffs off. I feel around my wrist; it's wet, warm, and painful to the touch. I wince in pain, definitely bleeding. I quickly run to the window, but not enough to give me away. I examine the window, too small for me. I use the light from the window as an advantage. The window creates a small bit of light to where I can see the surrounding area. I grab what looks to be a box or crate; I climb on top and see the moon. The site of cars passing by, but no person. Not one. I release a long saddened sigh. I hear footsteps above me. I instantly rush to my position. I cuff my hand back, as painful as it was, beats death. My heart beating rapidly as the door opens. Out of breath, I take slow breaths through my nose and out. The man stares at me for a long while. "What do you want?" I ask again. He continues to stare. He turns and walks back upstairs. His silence is starting to get on my nerves.

I get back to getting myself out. I get myself out quicker than I last did. I examine the room for some kind of weapon I can use or a flashlight. I use the window first to see if I can find any leverage. The light around the window showed broken Christmas decor, empty mildew boxes, and loose screws, but no sharp tools. Maybe there's sharp stakes in the broken Christmas decor. I begin to rummage through the Christmas stuff. I need to find something small I can conceal under me. All I seem to find are broken shards of ornaments. I look at the bottom, my eyes lighten at the site of an icicle ornament. It's not its original size being around 5 to 6 inches, but the size being 3 inches. Not enough to get a good grip, but suffice. I grab the ornament, as quietly as possible due to all the glass and porcelain decorations. Making somewhat of noise, I grab the icicle and head back to my original position by the heat pipe. I've never had to stab someone, the thought of even shooting someone, even in self defense, is terrifying.